


Nights Like This

by ArianneMaya



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Sex, BDSM, Dom/sub, Forced Orgasm, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-12 03:00:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2093118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArianneMaya/pseuds/ArianneMaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>On a good day, Steve loves when Sam takes control, and their bed is full of banter and laughter. On a day like this, though, Steve needs to have control forcefully ripped out of his hands. And that's exactly what Sam does.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nights Like This

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Eeyore9990 for the beta. Any remaining mistakes are mine.

“Oh. _Oh_ , fuck.”

The words escape against Steve's will. He hides his face in the sheets to muffle the noise, does his best not to thrust into the steady pressure of Sam's hand on his cock. The restraints pulling his arms high over his head, splaying his legs wide apart, keeping his knees firmly on the mattress are nothing but a reminder to stay immobile. It's the worst challenge not to move when Sam's jerking him off hard and fast, pushing him at a steady pace toward orgasm. 

Sam's breath tickles Steve's neck when he says, “Let me hear you.” Unable to stop himself, Steve shakes his head against the bed. Sam brushes a kiss against Steve's shoulder. “Nobody else will. Let me hear you.” He makes it sound just enough like an order that Steve has no choice but to obey, to turn his head to the side and let out the sounds of pleasure building inside him. 

“Good boy.” Sam tightens his grip on Steve's dick and picks up the pace, pushing two slick fingers in his ass and making him groan. The combination of the burn of too-much-too-fast and Sam's almost punishing grip on his cock makes him come at break neck speed. 

Just as Steve's about to relax, Sam releases him and brings his hand to Steve's side in an easy caress. “That's one.”

All the air leaves Steve's lung in a rush. His legendary stamina is a bit of an inside between them. Just because he can get hard and come again ridiculously fast on the heels of his first orgasm doesn't mean that he wants to. He tends to see the second orgasm like the cherry on top of a sundae: it tastes good, but it's unnecessary. 

Except on a night like this, when everything that could go wrong during an Avengers' mission did and Steve feels responsible. It doesn't matter that he knows he can't control everything; as their leader, sometimes, it feels like he should. 

On a good day, Steve loves when Sam takes control, and their bed is full of banter and laughter. On a day like this, though, Steve needs to have control forcefully ripped out of his hands. And that's exactly what Sam does, barely giving Steve a second to catch his breath before he pushes his fingers deeper into Steve's ass, going just a bit too fast from two to three to four and keeping Steve right on the edge. 

Within seconds, he's hard again, doing his best to stay immobile and not strain against his bonds to get the friction he craves. 

On a good day, Sam teases him because it barely takes a breeze to make him hard again, and Steve laughs it off, saying that it's only the serum acting up, even though he doesn't want or need another orgasm. 

On a night like this, Sam pushes and pushes and _pushes_ until Steve's whole world narrows down to what's happening here and now, until nothing matters but what Sam chooses to do next. 

He lets out a "Oh, fuck," when Sam spreads his fingers, opening him just the tiniest bit more, and it's like nothing, fucking nothing can compare to the sensation of being filled, fucked until he can't take it anymore. 

"Let go, baby." Sam presses a soft kiss against Steve's shoulder. "I got you." 

And Steve almost keens when Sam moves his fingers to rub against Steve's prostate, again and again. He's leaking precome and feeling like he's about to explode. Even with the benefit of the serum, it's all happening way too fast. He can take it, he knows he can, but the point of tonight isn't to push past the pain, ignore it and keep going the way he does in battle; it's to connect with his body and allow himself to feel everything for what it is, the pleasure, the pain, until nothing else exists and the only thing still connecting him to reality is the sheer strength of Sam's will. 

He has to close his eyes when he comes again, the sound that escapes him closer to a sigh. It's not painful, not yet, but he knows it will be, soon, that even his serum-enhanced body will protest against how far he's pushing himself, how far Sam is taking him. Somehow it's enough to make Steve stop fighting, to let the bonds hold him. He's breathing fast through his mouth, little puffs of air that, years ago, would have scared him because they meant his asthma was acting up. He can feel the sweat pooling on his back, not from exertion but from too many sensations. 

Steve can't stop shivering when Sam says, "That's two," reminding him that they are very, very far from being done. What he wants is Sam, his hands on him, his dick inside him, his kisses, but he's aware that asking will only delay things further. Tonight, he can make as much noise as he wants, but begging isn't allowed. 

All of a sudden he's frustrated at himself, almost shattering his own headspace. He isn't gone yet, not completely, not far enough. And it has to show, somehow, because Sam says, "Stop thinking."

"'m trying." 

"Not good enough." Sam glides a hand along Steve's flank, under his body, an easy caress on his stomach. Steve is almost tempted to tell him to get on with it. 

The blinding flash of pain makes him suck in a breath. It's so sudden that he can't figure out where it's coming from. 

"Told you you'd forget them, didn't I?" And Sam pulls, again, on the chain between the nipple clamps that, yes, Steve forgot until this very moment, used as he is to push through any kind of pain because he knows his body can take it. 

When Sam's hand finds his cock, he's hard again, and quickly loses himself between pain and pleasure, every mean tug of Sam's hand on the chain feeling like torture, every caress on his dick like heaven. It shouldn't be enough, but he was already halfway gone, and his body reacts so fast that his mouth opens on a silent scream. 

"That's three." Once again, Sam's touch turns gentle, and Steve can't help but strain against the bonds, trying for more of anything he can get. 

He doesn't know what's next and he doesn't care anymore. It almost feels like his body isn't his; instead, it's Sam's, to play with and use him as he wants. Here and now, nobody's life depends on Steve's decisions. What happens tonight remains Sam's choice. 

What he wants is a distant memory at the edge of his mind, as if nothing matters beyond what Sam's expecting of him. And he begins the slow slide toward this space where he can allow himself to stop thinking and just be, safe in the knowledge that Sam always knows how to give him exactly what he needs. 

He hears a low buzzing sound that he can't recognize until Sam runs the vibrator along the line of his cock. The new sensation is so sudden that it's almost painful, but it's surprise more than anything that makes Steve try to move away from it. 

For a moment there's nothing else, then he feels Sam's hand on his shoulder, a single, grounding touch. "Give me a color, baby." 

They're long past the point when Steve would roll his eyes and mouth off in reaction to that kind of check-up. He's figured out that it didn't do any good; sometimes, his own reaction was enough to take him out of his headspace so fucking fast that he was left reeling. That, plus the fact that Sam isn't going to do anything unless he's sure that Steve really wants it, has brought more than one scene to a screeching halt. 

So he takes it for the command it is to focus on what's going on inside him and where he is in his head. It isn't until he's sure that he's still good to go, that even though he knows it will hurt he wants to keep going because damn, he _needs_ that kind of release today, that he says, "Green, sir." 

He feels the pressure of Sam's hand on his shoulder again in acknowledgement before Sam reminds him, "Don't move." 

A sharp nod of his head is all Steve can give before he's shivering all over at the vibrations, a tease over his dick, his balls, the edge of his hole. It isn't enough and almost too much at the same time. He's so sensitive by now that the can feel the vibrations reverberating through his whole body, his blood singing with the high he's losing himself in. 

After another minute of teasing that feels like an eternity, he hears the squelching sound of more lube before he feels the vibrator against his asshole, vibrations going stronger and stronger as Sam slowly pushes it inside. 

He doesn't have enough of his voice left to scream. All that comes out of it are little "oh, _oh_ " and a string of words that he has no control over, a mess of "too much" and "more" and "please" and "I need." 

"I got you," Sam says, and again, more intent, "I got you." Then he aligns the vibrator _just right_ and Steve sobs into the sheets because it's too much, it's _too much_ , but the last thing he wants is for Sam to stop. 

He sobs again when Sam closes his hand around his dick, when Sam jerks him off, hard and fast. He shakes his head, again and again, because this time it's really too much, too soon, and he doesn't know if he can...

Sam doesn't give him a choice. Between the vibrator in his ass and Sam's unrelenting hand on his dick, his orgasm is ripped out of him in a full-body shudder. He's trembling all over, his muscles threatening to give up on him until Sam slips an arm around his waist. Just like the bonds, it's a reminder more than anything else, because Sam would have a hard time holding him into place if Steve wasn't helping. 

Sam drapes himself over Steve's back, fitting his dick to the crack of Steve's ass, and Steve shudders again. 

"Think you can give me another one, baby?"

Steve doesn't have any words left to answer. His voice is a wreck and he's too far gone to string a sentence together. 

Sam brushes a soft, soft kiss on Steve's shoulder. "I know you can. You've been so good for me. Don't you want to come on my dick?" 

Without waiting for a reply, Sam slots them together and pushes inside Steve in one long, hard thrust. 

Pleasure and pain sing through him. He's ready to collapse, his body long beyond the point where he would have usually stopped. He holds himself up as best as he can. He isn't hard again, not yet. He's so overstimulated that it would take a little while before he feels pleasure clearly again, and he tenses all over when Sam brings his own hand to his dick. "Make yourself come." 

It's too much, too much, and Steve finds himself shaking his head on the bed, again and again and again. 

Sam stops moving and, once again, rests his hand on Steve's shoulder. "Steve?" 

Hearing his name clears a bit of the fog in Steve's head. Not enough to bring him out completely, but just enough that he can turn his head and look at Sam over his shoulder, his eyes bright with tears. 

The concern and love he can read on Sam's face makes his heart twist in his chest as Sam asks, "You still with me?"

He nods, once, twice, and he hopes it will be enough. There's a time when this kind of moment would have stopped everything because feeling like he's forcing Steve to do something he doesn't really want goes way past Sam's limits. It took a lot of talking and many scenes before they finally found the point where they were both comfortable. 

Sam nods, too, and then he says, "Give me a color, baby." 

He swallows hard. He needs to find his words, aware that if he doesn't, Sam will stop. When he finally has his voice back, he says, "Green, sir." 

Within seconds, Sam has a hand in Steve's hair and pulls, hard enough to tear another sob out of Steve. "Make yourself come." 

Still, Steve can't move his hand. His dick is so sensitive that, if he does, he feels almost nothing but pain. 

Sam pulls out almost all the way before pushing back in, a brutal thrust that moves Steve a couple of inches higher on the bed. He stays right where he is, deep inside Steve's body, and rests his whole body over Steve's back, until he can whisper in his ear, "I'm still wearing the cock ring." It's true. With the slow, torturous grind of Sam's cock inside Steve, he can almost feel it, just a tease of the band of leather wrapped around the base of Sam's dick and balls. "Go as slow as you want, but I'm not taking it off until you come on my cock. And you know how patient I can be." 

His hand is wrapped around his cock. It takes a couple of seconds before he can finally move, the mix of pain and pleasure, of the slow, almost nonexistent caress of his own hand around his cock and the brutal way Sam's using his ass going straight to his head and making him dizzy. 

He gasps and chokes on his own sobs. He shouldn't be hard again, not so soon, yet here he is, tempted to tighten his grip, to fight through the pain for any glimpse of pleasure. As difficult as it is, he want this. God, he can almost taste how good it will be. 

A fresh wave of tears that have nothing to do with pain wells up in his eyes when Sam's whispers, "Let go, baby. I got you." 

And he does, finally hitting the point where he can't differentiate pain from pleasure, where it doesn't even matter.

His whole body is alight with sensations and it feels like he's about to spiral right out of himself, the only thing still grounding him, still keeping him here are Sam's hands on him, Sam repeating him, again and again, how good he is, how strong, how beautiful. Steve can barely hear him through the mess in his head but in that moment, he knows, he just knows that he's everything Sam says, all of his doubts, the shadow left by today's events long forgotten. 

He comes, again, even though it feels like it shouldn't be possible. He feels it through his whole body, traveling in time with his blood and leaving him a wrecked mess. 

He feels Sam pull out, hears a sound he can't place until Sam is kneeling right by his head, Sam's hand a tight grip in his hair that feels grounding more than anything else. His eyes are closing of their own accord and he has a hard time keeping them open but he tries, because he doesn't want to miss the sight of Sam jerking himself off with a desperation that makes Steve almost proud. 

"Fuck, you're so gorgeous. So pretty and all mine." 

Sam's words make Steve feel warm all over. His eyes flutter closed when Sam paints his cheek, his neck with his come. He lets out an happy sigh, completely at peace with how owned and taken care of he feels. 

He can barely move when Sam finally releases him from his bonds, collapsing on the bed when his muscles give up. Eyes still closed, he feels Sam lie down next to him, one of Sam's hands gently playing with his hair. 

Another pleased sigh escapes him. Nothing seems to exist anymore but the two of them, the gentle caress of Sam's hands on his body and the words that he barely recognizes but that makes him feel warm and taken care of and loved, in a way that he hasn't had in years. 

In a way that, after Bucky fell and Steve could do nothing but watch, he thought he would never find again.


End file.
